


i'm your man

by blindbatalex



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Brad has terrible timing, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Patrice is a giant coward, a recipe for disaster dare i say, but the fun sort of disaster that gets nicely fixed in the end with no angst, dont even ask, enjoy really, its been a while since i wrote pure crack, massage fic, oh no that's a terrible combination!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-25 00:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14965151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blindbatalex/pseuds/blindbatalex
Summary: Brad asks a key question the answer to which has him over the moon. The only problem is Patrice has no idea what he said yes to so he decides to try and figure it out without Brad knowing. Given how many creative ideas Brad has had over the years though, yeah that's the dictionary definition of easier said than done.





	i'm your man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thewonderzebra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewonderzebra/gifts).



> for the dear wonderzebra <3

Patrice knows when he has fucked up. It doesn’t happen very often - usually it’s Brad who finds himself in tight corners due to stupid mistakes - but this time there is no denying it. And unlike Brad, Patrice has never been good at knowing how to fix what he has done.

Here is the situation: Brad comes home one day with his brightest grin and a reservation for a full couple’s day at the spa.

The season is long, they are playing almost every 48 hours and at this point there are maybe two inches of Patrice’s body that don’t ache when he moves. 

“Well technically it’s less of a couple’s day and more of a two bros chilling in a hot tub five feet apart because they are not gay kind of day at the spa, but you know-” Brad says with a half shrug, grinning into a kiss.

Every time Patrice thinks it isn't possible to love Brad any more than he does Brad always finds a way to go and prove him wrong.

Brad has been on edge recently though. He hasn’t been sleeping too well - Patrice caught him standing at the balcony and staring into the horizon before dawn one too many times - and he frowns way more than he should. He brushes Patrice off every time with a shrug and a quick smile but it worries Patrice still. 

Maybe, he thinks, a spa day is what Brad needs to, help him relax.

If only.

Brad tosses and turns all night before it. Patrice wraps an arm around his middle and draws comforting circles on his wrist and it kind of breaks his heart, the way he hears Brad's breath shudder. 

On the day of too - the whirlpool tubs are amazing, Patrice can physically feel himself sweating the disappointments and aches of the season away in the steam room and those might be the best facials they have ever gotten. Brad jokes and laughs and splashes him with water but that shadow never leaves his brow. It’s there in the way he frowns when he thinks Patrice isn’t looking, in the lines of tension on his shoulders that never quite ease up. 

Patrice wishes he knew how to make Brad know, without the shadow of a doubt that he is there for him. There is and Patrice really means nothing that Brad has to face alone.

Before he gets the chance, there is the last activity of the day - a full body massage.

And then the massage is over and Brad is grinning from ear to ear as if he has just been told he is going to star in a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles remake, just like that.

Patrice does a double take, tries to hunt for that shadow behind Brad’s smile but- there is nothing. Brad is glowing and looks perfectly at ease, not a trace of worry on his body.

His heart sings at seeing Brad so happy, relief floods over him as he thinks - maybe all Brad needed was an intense massage to take him out of his own mind for a bit too. God knows Patrice just blissed out during it, the world reduced to the expert hands of his masseuse undoing the knots and the many grievances of his muscles. In fact he was so out of it he didn't process what was being said around him much. Brad was talking at some point, that much he remembers, but it has only registered as a pleasant background noise.

Then Brad turns to him on the way to the lockers, brushing his fingers against Patrice’s and says- “I thought you would say yes, obviously, but I was just--nervous I guess.” before he trails off. 

Ah.

“You were afraid I was going to say no?” Patrice asks to buy himself time. 

Brad stops and Patrice stops with him. He bites on his lower lip as he admits that he was afraid Patrice was going to tell him to come back to his senses. 

There is a quiet wonder to his voice and relief is emanating from him in waves - and oh this is bad. 

*

Patrice thinks and thinks to try and remember what it is that he agreed to but draws a blank every time.

He could also just ask but Brad is so happy and he doesn't want to jeopardize that - to disappoint Brad - if it is something he was going to say yes to anyway.

The only problem is- well Brad has had many creative ideas over the years. Patrice needs to intervene if it's anything outrageous and if not he still needs to know. 

*

“A family of lizards,” he asks over the eggs he is frying the next morning with trepidation, “they are interesting pets, no?”

He isn’t particularly religious but he prays to God that please _please_ don’t let this be the thing he promised.

“OH MY GOD CAN WE ADOPT A FAMILY OF LIZARDS?” comes the reply.

Patrice sighs with relief and tells Brad that no, they can’t, just as Brad is detailing his plans to name all of them from Rask1 to Rask11.

After practice he catches Brad on the way to the showers and pitches his voice low as he tells him that they should celebrate the next time Brad scores an overtime winner.

The more he thinks about it, the more he has warmed up to the idea of experimenting with butt plugs like Brad wanted to and he is frankly a little bummed when it turns out that that isn’t what he promised either.

“Off season is coming up, and I sure love pancakes,” he tries at dinner, goes for hunting rifles as they brush their teeth, and even casually mentions sheep before they go to bed. 

But it's to no avail. He hasn’t agreed to making Brad pancakes for every meal for a week, hasn’t caved in to finally learning how to hunt over the summer, and Brad has apparently given up on his dreams of relocating to Scotland and becoming sheep farmers once they retire.

“Is everything okay?” Brad asks him the next morning when he catches Patrice staring at him in bed. “I know it’s not going to be easy and if you changed your mind, what we have is enough.” Brad exhales and there is that shadow crossing his brow again, the worry.

Patrice hates himself for being such a giant coward even as he reaches out a hand to smooth Brad's frown away and tells him that there is nothing in the world that can change his mind. 

Belatedly he hopes he hasn’t just committed himself to starting an ameteur rock band with Tuukka and Quaider.

********

Brad is fucking done. Over the years he has thought that Patrice might actually be an angel sent down from heaven to look after them mortals on a few occasions, mostly when he was high on painkillers, but right now he is ready to commit murder.

Like if Patrice got cold feet that's fine. Brad would understand. He is aware the whole thing is kind of crazy given who they are and where they play.

But no, instead Patrice just tells him that nothing can change his mind and then acts shifty as fuck, worse than that time he broke the heirloom Marchand vase by accident and didn’t know how to tell Brad for two weeks. He hasn’t acknowledged their engagement once, has been changing the conversation on tangents that leave Brad baffled (how do you go from whether you can machine wash a sweater to sheep farming in Scotland for example?) and Brad has no idea what the fuck is going on with him.

Maybe, Brad thinks, this was a bad idea to start with.

Maybe, if Patrice won’t talk to him from the start all they can hope for in marital life is to become a divorce statistic. 

Probably Brad wouldn’t stay married to Brad either, but still.

In the end when he can't take it anymore he confronts Patrice over dinner, determined not to let him escape this time.

“What do you think about cake?”

Patrice makes an sound through a full mouth that even Brad can’t decipher despite years of practice. 

He chews, swallows, and tries again, with a bright smile. “Cake? Like what we can learn to make at that baking program in France so that one day we can open our own pastry shop?” 

There it is again - the spark in his eyes, the upspeak that grates on Brad's nerves worse than every referee in the league combined. Brad takes in a deep breath to keep his calm and pushes on. 

“No. Like wedding cake. I know we will have to sneak away into a city hall somewhere but do you want cake for the afterparty?”

This is it. The moment of truth. He stares at Patrice and hard, watches for any mimic, any small sign that will give him away. Part of him wishes he never proposed to begin with, never rocked the boat. If this is how it goes down, he is not sure how and when he will be recover.

Patrice blinks a couple of times. The end of his fork is in his plate where it descended to pick up the next bite. “I don’t think I un-” he starts, before the fork clatters against the table and his hand flies up to cover his mouth. Brad watches his eyes open comically wide like a cartoon character.

“Wedding cake.” Patrice murmurs quietly, “for when we get married.” 

Patrice looks- well, he looks _surprised_ beyond anything. It makes no fucking sense and it does nothing to placate Brad’s anger.

“That day at the spa, you asked me to marry you.” he continues. His voice breaks at the end and he is tearing up a little too.

 _You are acknowledging it at least,_ Brad thinks, though the tears are probably a bad sign. Fuck.

“Yeah and I know it’s crazy alright. I know there a hundred reasons why it makes no sense but if you changed your mind the least you can do is to talk to me. Fuck, Bergy.”

He makes to get up so he can get out of the room before he breaks down or throws something against the wall but Patrice stops him with a hand around his wrist. 

“No.” he says. “Brad, of course I will marry you. I will fight the world to marry you. Fuck.”

Brad looks at him, at his red eyes that shine with conviction and huffs. Part of Brad desperately wants to believe but none of it explains his behavior in the last week.

“Then why the fuck-”

Patrice takes a deep breath, gestures at Brad to sit down. “So um, remember that time I broke the vase your mom entrusted you with-?” he asks with his eyes fixed firmly on the table.

*

“Patrice Bergeron-Cleary you are fucking unbelievable. “

“I know. Sorry babe.”

“Sorry babe? I spent the entire week freaking out Pat. You better be sorry.”

“In my defense who proposes during a full body massage, man. I thought it was supposed to be a no homo day.”

“I asked in code.”

“You proposed in code?”

“Yeah I told you I could play by your side forever, that you were ‘my center’. Asked if you wanted to ‘get another ring’ - together. You really have no memory of it do you?”

Brad huffs out a laugh when Patrice shakes his head. In retrospect, yeah maybe it wasn't the smartest way to do it. Patrice should have told him though instead of asking about lizards and sheep for a week.

“I know.” Patrice says. His cheeks are dusted with pink, he is trying to keep his expression solemn and repentant but a rebellious smile keeps breaking through. It’s very hard to stay mad at him like this “I will work on my communication skills. Ask you the next time.”

“You better.”

Brad intends for it to sound stern. His hand comes up to cup Patrice’s chin. Patrice leans into the touch, his stubble scratches a little against Brad’s palm. He doesn’t think he succeeds at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading friends. If you liked it please do tell, comments are what motivate me to write more! 
> 
> I am at @blindbatalex on tumblr if you want to come and say hi. This story came out of a fic ask game over there and my inbox is always open for prompts. :3


End file.
